Bark at the Moon
by LetThereBeRaito
Summary: Haine has a problem. Badou also has a problem; trying to keep the former from mauling everybody to death at the slightest scent of human flesh and blood. SLight AU. M for casual swearing


Heya. My pen name used to be 'LetThereBeRaito', so if there's anyone here from the Death Note fandom, you may know me J First pop at Dogs fic. I fuckin love this manga, They need to update it more!! BTW This is my own interpretation of Haine, so he differs quite noticeably to the actual manga version, as you will see if you read on J it would be nice if you did read onJ  
This will be multi chapter btw

_And before he even had a chance to turn, those cold, hard teeth were at his throat, caressing his skin, sliding up and down…tracing the curve of his neck, out to his shoulder, and back up again. Drawing…out…every…second._

_The red head gulped, his adams apple noticeably shifting with the action._

_The albinos eyes were wild, blazing red,. His pallid hands gripping at the other mans shoulders, finger nails biting in deep. The sight of that red liquid, driving his instincts wild._

_And for once in his life, Badou looked down at Haine's feral figure, and was actually fucking shitting it._

Badou sat on the shitty, dirty ground, his long, lanky legs crossed beneath him, his calloused hands absently flicking his red plastic lighter . The tiny flame igniting before hurriedly dying out once again. Fuck, was he BORED. He stared at the concrete, bullet scathed walls, searching out new, undiscovered marks which could possibly make up pictures of faces, animals, plants…ANYTHING.

OK, he wasn't only bored now, but sounding mildly on the peripheral of insanity. Who the fuck tries to find faces in the wall!?!?

Reaching into the back pocket of his haggard old jeans, he withdrew his emptying pack of smokes and slid one out, slipping it between his lips and lighting it with one swift flick of the wrist.

He allowed himself a moment to relax, unfurling his long, long legs and stretching them out in font of him, suddenly remembering not to let them get too close to the bars. He didn't want the scent of his bare skin to set Haine off again.

Why the fuck, why the FUCK, did he have to choose such a small confinement?! The red head and his albino partner were currently residing in the bottom of some abandoned hideout, the basement equipped with steel bars inserted from ceiling to floor, acting as a barrier between one half of the room and the other. Badou's side, however, contained the door to the exit, indicating who was the prisoner here.

Sucking back an extra long drag, Badou exhaled, a clear look of euphoria enveloping his face…which was abruptly wiped off when the distinct sound of his partner stirring arose from the corner.

The red head waved the smoke away from his face, the grey clouds having trouble dissipating in the small, windowless space.

"Haine..?" He asked wearily, making sure to draw his legs up to his body once again. He didn't wanna lose any fucking toes because of this.

A gutteral noise emitted from the albino's throat, startling Badou slightly…until he realized that the man was just groaning, his throat probably thick from the ten hours of solid sleep.

"Badou…" His voice was groggy, slow. The man stood up, his leather clad legs giving way ever so slighty under his weight.

The red head pushed himself against the wall, sliding his torso upward until he was straight, about to take one step…

Without warning, Haine had slammed himself up against the bars, knuckles whiter than the red head thought possible as he gripped at the metal poles, his crimson eyes a vision of pure anger.

"Badou, what the FUCK am I doing in here!? Get me the FUCK outta here, you shit bag!!" His clunky, horned boot slammed againt his prison wall as he kicked out in frustration, the metallic vibrations it created resounding off of the enclosed, concrete walls.

"HAINE. CALM THE FUCK DOWN." He yelled, his cigarette butt falling to the ground as he did so, not caring about getting close to his partner this time as he could instantly tell things were ok.

Although, to the outsider, the situation can't have looked all too fucking safe.

And as if that very thought were the catalyst to the fucking transformation, Haine dropped to the floor, his body crumpling like some kids rag doll, his figure still, yet his eyes wide open, the pupils dilated so all that was left; the blood-red iris

Badou backed against the wall, his head smacking against the solid concrete, and contemplated running.


End file.
